Night Fox
by Aidenlink
Summary: Living the life of a lethal assassin, 17 year old Fox must return to Westeros to help her half-brother and fight the family that once threw her away. She lives in the shadows but meets someone she did not expect from her past, who just might pull her out of the darkness. OC, AU, graphic language. Angst/Adventure/Romance.
1. Chapter 1

First off this is my first fan fiction in a very long time. This story will be an AU in A song of Ice and Fire, Most of the story line will apply but I will alter the story to fit in my OC so some events and conversation that originally take place in ASOIAF will be either changed or left out completely. Also I am going with a very rough timeline of events and I don't expect all of my events to match up with the books, but I am going to try and make it as structurally sound as I possibly can.

Chapter 1

Fox

Running. Always running. Why do I always end up running? Ever since I can remember there has always been something or someone that I am trying to run from, either that or hide. A part of me almost enjoys it, maybe because it's all I've ever known. But sometimes I wish I could just enjoy my life, relax, and maybe play a game of cyvasse. No, what am I even thinking? I couldn't even if I tried, I was born into this lifestyle and I will never get out. Sometimes I wonder if it was because the person I was born as that pushed me into these circumstances or if it was because of the fucked up family I was born into. Sometimes when I'm alone, or drunk, I think of what it would have been like to have been born into a normal family, a family that wouldn't have tossed me away, hidden me….a family that wouldn't have made me run.

The streets of Pentos are almost quiet as I run, only stopping if I feel as though someone may glance up at a rooftop and see me. It never fully quiets down here though. From the little I remember of the Seven Kingdoms it seemed as though once the moon was high in the sky, the world would just stop. Everything would go quiet and I would sit in my bed and gaze up at the stars wondering if the Gods knew whom I was and what they would make of me. But I was a foolish little girl then, and my only dream was to have a loving family that wouldn't be ashamed of me, a family that wouldn't think of me as a dirty secret that needed to be thrown away.

Ever since I came to the Free Cities though there has never been absolute quiet, the people here are almost always awake. It makes the job I have to do a little more challenging, but what can I say? I love a challenge. I have lived for it for the past seven years. Constantly pushing myself, constantly running, from my past, my memories, from my whole life before I came to the Free Cities. My main goal in life has been to push those memories into the back corners of my mind and never let them resurface. But my brother….that damn ass won't let me let it go, and as much as I want to, I know I still want to feel cared for in some way. And that's why I have to go back, I have to help him; he is the only one that has ever cared that I was even alive or dead.

I'm sitting on the rooftop of some lord's house waiting for the right moment when he will be alone in his room. I don't know his name, and I don't care to. All I need to know is a person's face and where I can find them and then I can do my job. I sit in the shadows and if anyone were to look on to rooftop they would not see me. That was what my training has taught me. I am as visible as wind, as silent as the grave, and as lethal as a dire wolf with a bloodlust.

He does not see me coming, they never do, and that's what earned me the name Fox for my stealth. No one knows my real name here and I intend to keep it that way, Fox is just fine with me.

I hear him open the door to his washroom and undress to get in his bath. I silently slide into the bedroom that is connected to the washroom and make sure my hood and dagger are in place. I glance around at his elegantly decorated room, filled with rich furniture and possessions. Someone is going to become very rich tomorrow I am sure.

I slide to the washroom doorway and he faces away from me in the bath. I come up behind him and drown him in the bathtub where he was washing himself just moments ago. His eyes bulge and he tries to struggle against me but I have him in a lock and he cannot escape his death. No one has ever escaped at my hands, the one thing I can be proud of in my life so far. After his eyes fade and he goes limp in my arms, I quickly slit his wrists and leave a knife and his supposed suicide note on the side of the bathtub and go back into the night, racing from rooftop to rooftop.

Later, I sit in a far corner of a shady pub. I've got my hood on to hide my face because I rarely ever leave my home without it on. I would rather people just not remember my face. I'm not trying to make any friends, and no one should know me anyways. I'm a murderer, and I don't like innocent people getting caught up in the games I'm involved in. They always end up dead.

I'm smoking my pipe and finishing off a glass of whiskey. I guess I've always had the tastes of a man; there is barely one ladylike bone in my body. I guess most people would call my face comely, adding to my long golden hair, and slim body, but the patch on my eye has always drawn away from that, I'm sure my bluish green eye would look prettier if I had two of them. Besides, I don't really care. My job isn't about being pretty, and right now I only care for my job. But dammit, that letter brother sent me; I'm not quite sure what I should do.

I take the letter out of a hidden pocket in my cloak and mull over it some more.

Dearest Fox,

This will not be a lengthy letter like I usually enjoy writing you. I have just arrived in King's Landing to take up the position we talked about. I am starting to realize the lioness and spider are surrounding me with little birds and I have no one I can fully trust. I need someone here on the watch out for me if I am going to keep my head very long in this game of thrones. I trust you, you are my blood, and I know you support me just as much as you have hated her. I need a shadow, I need you Fox. Please come as quickly as you can.

Sincerely,

Dragon

Hmph. The dragon part makes me laugh. Oh sure he loves dragons; he would probably kill just to see one alive today. But he by no means has any of the physical strength of a dragon, though he does have one of the sharpest minds I have ever come across. What was he thinking taking this position when he is so clearly entering a hostile environment? Well of course he would, it is so like him to want to be important for once, and in a way I really do understand him. He was treated almost as much of an outcast as me, only he was legitimate so father had to keep him or fear for his reputation. He is right about one thing; he will die there if he does not have the physical strength and loyalty to back up his clever plans. From our correspondence in the past, it seems as though the rest of the family is a sharp witted and conniving as he can be, and that is going to be very dangerous for him. I know he has a good heart in him though and he's a better man than the rest of the family combined. I will not stand for him being surrounded by unloyal, scumbag sellswords and barbaric tribesmen who will leave him as soon as that lioness pays them enough gold to stab him in the back.

As much as I hate the Seven Kingdoms, it is where I was born, and I do want to see it again, I want to see my brother again; I want to protect him from that bitch.

It is decided then, I will take the next ship to the King's Landing, and hide in my shadows and make sure no harm befalls my brother. I just hope I do not get caught up in the game; I may not escape with my life.

I'm coming Tyrion.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Fox

I fucking hate ships.

I've never been seasick. But that's not why I hate sailing so much. It's the lack of opportunities to escape. I always need a possibility of escape; my life has revolved around it. On a ship in the middle of this heaping death pot they call the sea, anything could happen. I like structure and knowing a certainty of life and death, but out at sea I feel like my life is not in my own hands anymore. A storm could hit, a fire could break out, the crew could turn mutinous, and then in a short matter of time everyone on this boat could be dead. Sure I could leave them all to kill each other, maybe even kill a few myself, but then there would be no one to steer this sea coffin.

I can smell and taste the salt of the sea as the wind hits me full in the face. I don't blink or budge from it however and continue to look at the soft morning horizon.

I recall the first time I was on a ship. I was trying my best to be brave…well as brave as a small girl of just ten could be. Except I was going in the opposite direction I am now, leaving Westeros. Now that I am going back, there is a storm of emotions gathering inside of me. It feels as though the whole time I was in Essos there has been a subconscious build up in side of me just waiting to burst and be free. I am nervous to about seeing my brother and about the task that lies ahead of me. My job calls for no one to recognize me, but there is a part of me that wishes someone will and lead me from the shadows I am so drawn towards. Of course that cannot happen. I must not be noticed, with the exemption of Tyrion, no one must ever know I am there. If I am found out it could cost me my head, maybe even Tyrion's. Cersei would never allow me to live if she found out, neither would father. Hell, he would probably be glad to get rid of me once and for all. I am nothing but a dark mark on his irrefutable reputation. No they must never find me, they must never know.

Hate bubbles up inside of my chest, clawing its vicious talons against my heart. Thinking of father and Cersei is dangerous, if I allow myself to be to consumed by my hate for them I don't know if I will be able to stop myself from slitting their throats in the night. I must suppress this, I'm better then that, or at least I will try to be.

Whatever emotions I have, my face does not give it away. My body could be carved out of stone as far as anyone else could tell. I have been trained to give nothing away, to even feel nothing at times. I have been desensitized to many things, killing being a main one. I still cling to my humanity at times like this though, like I have a secret sort of hope that something life changing will happen and I can be fully human again. Most of the time I see this as a weakness though and it disgusts me. No one will ever truly love me for who I am, and why would they?

Putting these thoughts aside I make my way back to my quarters of the ship, I've had enough fresh air for the day, I keep my steely reserve etched on my face and glare at any sailors who try to get a glimpse under my hood. I know what is on their minds, they know I am a woman at least and I'm sure one will be stupid enough to try and drunkenly climb in my bed one night. If I was a normal woman I would be afraid, but being who I am it really doesn't concern me. Sure I can't kill anyone but if I have to slice off an appendage or two then so be it. I have already made it very clear to the captain about what will happen if someone steps out of bounds with me and he seemed to be respectful of that. Hopefully he has given his crew a good warning.

I step inside my quarters and sit on my small cot. I haven't brought much with me, I really don't own much. I have no lack for gold but my profession requires that I sometimes need to wear all my possessions on my back. I would call Essos my home now, but really when I think about it there was never really any place there for me to call "my home". There was never a place a felt fully safe and away from harm, and from what I hear, that's what a home is supposed to feel like a little bit at least. I guess in my early life I could have called Casterly Rock my home but it was all ruined, what normal life I could have had taken away from me.

I take of my cloak and unwrap my long hair from the braid I had it in. There would be no use to let my hair fly free everywhere on the deck and emphasize the fact that I am a woman. I take a lock in my hand and wonder if it might be necessary to chop it all off. The mark of the long golden hair of a Lannister just oozes off of me and for a moment I am repulsed. But no, I like it this way; sometimes my long hair reminds me that I can have a softer side. Or maybe it just reminds me that once I thought that I belonged somewhere, no matter how much of a lie that was. I lay on my cot in my worn out long sleeve tunic and tight slacks. I have no need for clothes usually worn to bed; they would just hinder me if I needed to make a quick escape or had unwelcome company in my bed.

I hear the sailors getting louder as they drink through the night. I can hear them shouting at each other more as they start to get even more drunk. Perfect. This is just what I need, some idiot sailors getting drunk out of their wits each night and mopping around when they are sick the whole next day. I hate the fact that I have to leave my life in the hands of idiots.

I can't sleep. I toss and turn and punch my pillow, as if I could beat it into becoming more comfortable and gifting me with sleep. No, it is useless, I'll just have to sit with my thoughts or do something useful until sleep finally finds me. I've had this problem since I could remember. Something about the night puts me on such an edge that sleep for me is very hard to obtain. Maybe it's because I have a fear of someone snatching me in my bed, catching me unaware. Not that it would be an irrational fear, I still have nightmares about that night and I will wake up screaming for someone I know will never come.

Whatever the problem is, I am thankful I am plagued by it in this night because before long I hear the clumsy pounding of someone coming down the hall towards my cabin.


End file.
